


A Weird Time

by dadezra



Category: Filthy Frank - Fandom, George miller - Fandom, Joji - Fandom, Joji miller - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 03:11:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12644964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadezra/pseuds/dadezra
Summary: You broke up months ago and run into each other at a museum.





	A Weird Time

You were certain your eyes were deceiving you until walking closer to the bench. There sitting, zoned out in front of a Manet painting, was a man you knew. One you hadn't seen in months and it made your heart drop.  
“Is that George ‘Joji’ Miller I see? Internet sensation, falling asleep in the Met?”   
He’s startled, lifting his head up, clearly surprised to see you in front of him. When his bleary, red-rimmed eyes meet yours, you’re taken aback. The bags under his eyes are more pronounced than you remember. He looks exhausted.  
He smiles though, “Want an autograph?”  
“God.” You groan, seating yourself beside him. The two of you sit in silence for a while, simply staring ahead at the painting. The canvas is covered in black and deep reds. It’s melancholy and intense, sort of how you’ve been feeling inside. You stare until the colors bleed together. Your eyes threaten to spill tears but you wipe them away and turn back to the person beside you. He’s been watching the whole time.  
“Are you okay?”  
“I’m just… going through some things.” You sigh. He knows. He messes with the beanie on his head, taking it off, shaking out his hair and then putting it on again. You hope you haven’t made him uncomfortable.  
“I am too.” A tight smile appears on his face, not quite reaching his eyes.  
“So what are you doing here? I’ve never known you as someone to frequent art museums.”  
“It’s something new I’ve been doing. It’s quiet and let’s me think.” He explains. He always liked quiet, you remember. He used to take you for walks when things got stressful in life, not much talking, just walking side by side. You’d end up on park benches and and docks by the water. Memories fill your head as you look into his eyes. You have no idea if he’s thinking the same or notices how the energy of the painting and his closeness is filling you with a sad sense of longing. Maybe it’s just nostalgia. You’ve missed him.  
“Sorry.” He feels the need to apologize for the intensity of his gaze. Now he’s the one looking away and wiping his eyes. “It’s just… a weird time.”  
“You should go home and get some rest.” Instead of standing though, he takes you by surprise and reaches for your hands. They’re cold and they make your heart flutter. He looks scared, like it’s something you don’t want. You quickly pull him close before he can back away.  
“I miss you, (Y/N).” He whispers into your hair.  
“We weren’t good for eachother, George.” You hate that you have to say it and you wish it weren’t true. You both know this though. Knowing this will be the last time, you lean in and softly press your lips to his. He squeezes you tighter and it pains you to release him.  
“Have a good Thanksgiving.” You breathe, extracting your body from his and standing.  
“See you around.” He says quietly, you both know you won’t. You don’t let yourself glance backward as you exit the room, hoping to make it out before the tears come again.


End file.
